


Temporary Claim

by run_for_me



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Historical, Harems, M/M, Manipulation, Mild D/s, Mild S&M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:45:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1339246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/run_for_me/pseuds/run_for_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some, of course, are off limits.  Queen Talia and her husband have their special favorites who join their marriage bed from time to time.  Laura has several young strapping men that are hers and hers alone.  Even Derek has a few favorites—the quiet ones, the sweet ones.  </p><p>Peter?  The Duke only has one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temporary Claim

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Written during class, so there might be some mistakes.

The harem building is separate from the palace. It’s supposed to be a refuge for the royal family, after all, and it serves its purpose well. There are a few hundred members of the harem, all willing and eager to serve any member of the royal family who might call for them.

Some, of course, are off limits. Queen Talia and her husband have their special favorites who join their marriage bed from time to time. Laura has several young strapping men that are hers and hers alone. Even Derek has a few favorites—the quiet ones, the sweet ones. 

Peter? The Duke only has one.

 

*

 

Stiles always acts like it’s a burden to be called to Peter’s bed. He comes, but he drags his feet. Peter likes that about him. The desperate neediness of the rest of the haremites disgusts him. Stiles’ relative indifference is… refreshing.

He arrives at Peter’s chambers with his hair a mess and ink stains all over his fingers. “I was in the middle of something, you know,” he snaps. “You better make this fast. I want to get back before someone decides to fuck with my research.”

“And what were you busy with?” Peter inquires, drawing off his shirt and reclining back on the bed. He feels like having Stiles suck him today.

“Lunar cycles,” Stiles answers blithely as he crawls onto the bed, clothing still on. He reaches for the ties of Peter’s pants with confident fingers. Peter watches the pulse in his neck, steady as ever.

Peter relaxes as Stiles’ warm mouth envelopes him. He is determined to make things last as long as possible. He likes Stiles angry too.

 

*

 

Stiles comes to the Hales’ court as a part of King Scott’s entourage. King Scott wants an alliance with Queen Talia against King Deucalion, who is currently marching against him. Scott’s land is small and odd, but Talia takes a liking to him and she has never liked Deucalion, so she agrees.

“In exchange, of course,” she says, “you’ll give us a noble from your land for our harem.” It is a tradition as old as the Hales’ lineage—human tithe given from the weaker land to the stronger one—but Scott looks perplexed.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” he says. “In my land, we don’t believe in slavery.”

“It is not slavery!” Laura protests, but under Talia’s eye, she calms. “It’s a tradition,” she emphasizes. “It is proof of your good will.”

Talia nods regally and Peter knows that King Scott will not object again. “Your offering must have untainted noble blood,” she tells Scott. “Bring them to us tomorrow.” She softens upon seeing Scott’s obvious turmoil. “Do not worry,” she reassures him kindly. “They will not be harmed.”

The next day, Stiles offers himself with his head held high. There are rings of red around King Scott’s eyes. The boys embrace fiercely before Stiles is escorted to the harem. King Scott watches him until he is gone.

 

*

 

The King and the Queen treat their favorites to fine food and luxurious chambers. Laura gives her men expensive weapons and steeds. Derek gifts his lovers with sparkling jewels. Peter doesn’t bother. What Stiles wants most, Peter can’t give him.

He does, however, ensure that Stiles wants for nothing material. His clothing is simple, yet well-made. His quarters are fine. He has unlimited access to the royal library and his own special desk within. His mare, which he had arrived on, is still his and he can take her out at his leisure. Sometimes, he even joins Peter on the training grounds and schools the palace guards in hand-to-hand combat.

Peter likes to watch him fight. For all he flails and gesticulates normally, when he fights, Stiles’ focus becomes singular and deadly. Of course, he’s useless with a sword or a bow, but put a knife in his hands or let him use his fists, and Stiles is deadly.

Peter watches Stiles methodically destroy his opponents. He does not cheer or shout like the other surveyors. He just watches. Stiles glances at him between challengers, waiting.

After the fifth soldier hits the ground, Peter turns and walks away. He strides through the castle to his room and waits. 

Seconds later, Stiles enters and Peter pushes him up against the wall. He bites harsh promises into Stiles’ neck and Stiles laughs breathlessly.

“Pervert,” Stiles says, but it’s somewhat fond. He gasps as Peter pushes his legs apart and moans as they rut together. He keeps his eyes open when he comes, still watching Peter like he’s more of a threat than all the soldiers in the palace courtyard ever could be.

Peter likes that. He sinks his teeth into Stiles’ shoulder and draws blood as he comes.

 

*

 

The first time Peter sees Stiles after he joins the harem, the boy is in the library. Peter observes him for a moment because, really, the haremites shouldn’t be able to leave the harem, much less sneak into the palace. Then, he strolls over to stand by Stiles’ side.

“I didn’t know you were interested in advanced mathematics,” Peter murmurs. Since they are nobility, most of the haremites have some level of education. Rarely, however, are they the type to sneak into the royal library to read about calculus.

Stiles scoffs. “You don’t know much about me at all, do you?” He reshelves the book before turning his amber eyes on Peter. “There aren’t many records about me and I don’t have many friends.”

It’s true. Peter had looked into the boy, but where he should have found volumes worth of information, he found only a little. Peter knows the Stilinski’s family history, but barely any of Stiles’ own past. It irks him and delights him, because he is fairly sure he knows why that is.

He does not comment on it, however. He merely hums and caresses the spine of the book Stiles had been holding. “Are you bored of the harem already?” He asks.

“Gods, yes,” Stiles responds promptly, throwing his hands up in the air. “Lounging around does not a life make. Besides, there are only about two books in the whole place.”

Peter smiles at Stiles’ exasperation. “Well then,” he says, pulling the calculus book from the shelf and dropping it back into Stiles’ arms. “You’ll have to change that, won’t you?”

After escorting Stiles back to the harem, Peter makes arrangements to ensure the boy can visit the library whenever he likes.

 

*

 

At some point before Peter makes Stiles his, Stiles looks up at him from across the table in Peter’s room and says, “You don’t have to court me, you know.” He gestures and the basic collar marking him as an unclaimed member of the harem flashes. “I’m pretty much a done deal.”

“Are you,” Peter says, not really asking. He flips to the next page of the book he’s reading on ciphers. Stiles had recommended it. He doesn’t bother to comment further.

He can feel Stiles’ frustration building on the other side of the table. “Look,” Stiles bites out, “are you going to fuck me or not?”

Peter barely manages not to smirk. “Maybe,” he answers nonchalantly. When Stiles continues to glare at him, he sighs and nods to Stiles’ own book. “You should continue reading.”

Instead, Stiles stomps around the table and seats himself in Peter’s lap. Peter looks up at him with raised eyebrows. “You should fuck me,” Stiles declares and Peter examines him for a moment, wondering if maybe, perhaps, he was wrong about Stiles after all. Then Stiles grinds down and smiles savagely. “This is a one time offer,” he coos.

Peter doubts that. Putting his book down on the table, he runs his hands down Stiles’ sides to grasp his hips firmly. In one swift move, he removes the boy from his lap. “Maybe,” he repeats and smiles back at Stiles, all teeth.

Stiles stares at him for a moment. “Fine,” he huffs and returns to his seat. “I was _trying_ to do you a favor.”

“I don’t need favors,” Peter says mildly, because he doesn’t. Nearly a month later, Stiles is in his bed.

Still, Stiles never initiates anything again. He’s learned his lesson, Peter thinks, although sometimes cunning amber eyes make him think otherwise.

 

*

 

Stiles’ letters are a continued annoyance to Peter’s underlings. Each one uses a different code or cipher and, when deciphered, they’re mainly nonsense. One letter to King Scott details the entire process of circumcision.

Stiles sends out as many as three a day and Peter lets the others fuss over them. He’s sure Stiles is getting his real letters out some other way and isn’t particularly worried by that. Stiles’ motives are fairly clear, after all. A man who sacrifices himself for his country will continue to do so. Sabotaging the Hales wouldn’t serve Stiles’ purpose.

After a round of particularly good sex, Peter sits and strokes his hands through Stiles’ hair. It’s grown longer since he’d arrived. “Someday you’ll have to tell me how you sneak letters past my men,” Peter says.

Stiles looks at him blankly, neither confirming nor denying anything.

Peter sighs, because he hadn’t really expected anything else. He pats Stiles’ head once and then moves off the bed to begin redressing himself. “In the meantime, you can stop driving my men up the wall with your decoys. I think Harris is about to tear what’s left of his hair out.”

“They’d miss it if I stopped,” Stiles says cheerfully. He pulls on his leather trousers and Peter admires the way they cling to his ass. “Besides, their pain amuses you,” he points out, kissing Peter on the cheek before strolling out of Peter’s rooms looking freshly fucked.

Peter shakes his head at himself and wonders how irritated Sitles would be if he was called back for dinner.

 

*

 

“You give the boy too much freedom,” Talia tells him. She’s worried, a bit frightened. Even without the aid of her troops, who had been too slow to get there in time, King Scott had thwarted Deucalion’s armies, at impossible odds. Peter is reluctantly impressed, though he knows it was not the _King’s_ genius that had earned this victory. 

Stiles sits across from him at the chess table. He does not react to Talia’s words, though Peter knows he hears them. She means for him to hear them. Instead, he moves his white knight and leans back in his chair. “Your turn,” he tells Peter, eyes glittering sharply.

“Indeed it is,” Peter agrees and looks at his sister. “I give Stiles no more liberties than you give your favorites. Whenever he is outside the harem, he is with me or under guard. That is, in fact, _more_ than I can say for Laura’s Kevin or Derek’s Lily.”

The prince and the princess look mildly shamed. Peter ignores them and moves his bishop. He’ll be able to checkmate Stiles in a few moves if the boy doesn’t change his strategy. 

“Lily and Kevin,” Talia hisses, “are not former spymasters!”

Former is, perhaps, not the best word for what Stiles is, but Talia doesn’t need to know that. If she expects her words to surprise him, than she is to be disappointed. Neither Peter nor Stiles react; instead, Peter drawls, “And I am _your_ spymaster, sister. If I can’t keep an eye on one boy, I wouldn’t be suited to the job.” And Stiles’ letters aside—which he doesn’t bother looking for—he does keep an eye on Stiles. He lets Stiles snoop as much as he wants as long as there’s no harm in it.

Talia sighs with the weariness of a long-suffering queen. “Did you know?” She asks. “Did you know who he was when you gave him your collar?”

Peter looks from the boy across from him as Stiles moves a white pawn. “When I gave him my collar,” he says deliberately, “I knew.”

 

*

 

He gives Stiles his collar two months after the day in the library. He has it sent to the harem. That evening, he comes back to his room and finds Stiles sprawled on his bed, newly intricate collar around his neck.

Stiles arches an eyebrow at the sight of him. “Sex?” He asks, stretching languorously.

“Maybe,” Peter replies, but he crawls on top of the boy and claims his mouth in a kiss. He’s not delusional enough to think the claim will be permanent, but he makes it anyway.

 

*

 

King Scott comes in the summer.

“I want Stiles back,” he demands with preamble or subtlety. It’s been a year since he’d come begging for help. So much had changed.

Talia narrows her eyes. “He was a gift, a show of faith in our alliance. Why would I give him back to you?”

“He was payment,” Scott retorts. “A hostage you took because I was weaker.” He draws himself up. “I am not weaker anymore. My kingdom defeated Deucalion’s troops and claimed his land with no help from you.” It is the voice of a king that demands, “Give me Stiles back.”

In the end, Talia concedes in exchange for a new alliance between their kingdoms, a permanent one. The terms are much more balanced this time.

Before he leaves, Stiles stops by Peter’s rooms. Peter looks up at him from his seat in the armchair by the window. The collar around the boy’s neck is gone. Peter will miss the sight of it.

He smiles at Stiles. “I suppose it will be much easier to be the power behind the throne when you are actually _near_ the throne,” he says blandly.

Stiles’ lips quirk upwards. “I think I managed just fine even with the distance.”

“That you did,” Peter agrees and beckons him over. He cants his head upwards. “A kiss for the road?” He murmurs and is obliged. Stiles’ lips are dry and hot against his, but he likes it all the same. He bites down on Stiles’ lower lip until it bleeds and then releases him.

Without a word, Stiles heads for the door. No goodbyes, just how Peter likes it. On the threshold, he pauses. Without turning back around, he says, “One of the queen’s royal seals is missing. You might want to take care. Someone could do a lot of things with that.”

“Could they,” Peter says with some amusement as Stiles pulls the seal out of his pocket and places it on the table by the door. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

And Stiles is gone.

 

*

 

When Laura is married, King Scott sends Stiles as his emissary. Everyone scuttles around him, watching warily as he smiles and hums to himself cheerfully. At dinner, he catches Peter’s eye and winks. Peter toasts him with his wine glass.

Later that evening, Peter knocks on his door. Stiles does not look surprised to see him. Peter smiles.

“Sex?” He asks.

“Maybe,” Stiles retorts, but he leaves the door open.


End file.
